


Being Hospitable

by Shockwaifu



Category: Friday the 13th Series (Movies)
Genre: Character Study, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Softened depictions of murder and violence, Tender in a messed up way
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-25 21:41:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21792418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shockwaifu/pseuds/Shockwaifu
Summary: “Hospitality. Always show hospitality.” That's what his mamma had said, and Jason always listened to his mamma, even if she no longer spoke save for the echoes of words in his head.(AKA the fic where Jason has a tea party)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Being Hospitable

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Halloween 2018. Finished on November 1st. Posted on Saturday the 14th.

_“Hospitality. Always show hospitality_.” That's what his mamma had said, and Jason always listened to his mamma, even if she no longer spoke save for the echoes of words in his head.

He hadn’t really gotten any chance to put this into practice, seeing as it was only him and his mamma, but ever since he brought his guest home he had been doing his best to do everything he had been taught to make sure she was comfortable as possible.

The teacup barely fit in his hand, his scarred, calloused skin almost covering it entirely, so different than when he was small, when his hand hardly reached halfway around. Now he was strong, so strong he could crush it away to nothing but flakes and sharp pieces like the parts of fish the vultures leave behind. He would never do that though; this was a cup his mamma had gotten him. Though it was faded, he could still make out the bear on the side as he set it down, carefully, gently, on a rusty hot plate some campers had brought. There was a dent on the corner from where they had thrown it at him. It had hurt quite a bit.

“ _But when they don’t show you any, when they don’t act hospitable to you, then you don’t show it to them anymore. They no longer deserve it if they don’t think you do,”_ Mamma had explained this to him while she cleaned the dirt from the cut that the fourth step had left on his head after the other kids pushed him down the stairs. Back then he had only cried, little and weak, confused and afraid. _“Shhhh,”_ she had soothed, _“don’t you worry, mamma will take care of those_ _misbehaving rats_ _, she’ll keep you safe, my sweet little boy.”_

Now he was a big boy, strong and brave. He had to be because now it was his responsibility to take care of the bad people for mamma. After the man who threw the appliance at him was through running, collapsed on the ground wheezing and exhausted, Jason had stomped on his his hand to let him know it was ungrateful to waste nice things by throwing them at people, and then on his back for disrespecting his mamma by coming to this place to do awful, awful things. The resounding crack was loud and jarring, but the other camper’s screaming was somehow even moreso. Jason had never been a fan of loud noises, and was even less fond of the rude names she was calling him. When he leveled his machete with her face, she spit on it, not giving so much as a single word of apology, so he drove the weapon straight through her filthy mouth. He took the hot plate back with him as a posthumous apology gift and ever since then he had used it only for nice things like tea and soup. Jason was a good boy. He was good at taking care of things.

_“You should always take care of guests, make sure they have plenty to eat and drink.”_

His guest was an extra special one, so he always gave her the best food and let her drink from his bear cup. She didn’t always want to eat and drink, so sometimes he had to hold the food up to her mouth just like mamma did when he was little and throwing a fit. She had gotten better accepting what was offered and his mamma was proud of them both.

Little bubbles swam up to the surface of the water in the cup like bugs startled from the grass in the early morning. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small handful of leaves. They smelled weird, especially when he boiled them, but the group that had accompanied his guest seemed to hold the particular plant they came from in high regard, so he decided it would be a kind gesture to use them this time. He grabbed another cup, this one painted with little pink flowers, _mamma’s cup_ , and put that one on to boil while the other steeped. 

_“Tea is always a great thing to make for people,”_ his mamma had told him as she took a kettle off the stove. _“There are lots of different things you can turn into tea, and lots of ways you change it up. I think there is a tea for everyone.”_ Long ago, she taught him how to make tea with dandelions. He didn’t like it that much. Sweet tea was his favorite, but he was never any good at making it, so he kept picking dandelions, just for mamma. Every time he brought her a new one he had found, she would kiss the top of his head and they would make dandelion tea together. He took two flowers from a pocket in his jacket that he always carried them in and began chopping up the roots the way he had so many times before.

Once both drinks were ready, he walked over to the table with a cup in each hand. His guest sat quietly, gaze cast down at the floor. She never smiled, which made him sad, but at least she wasn’t screaming and crying like she did the first several times she saw him or mamma. Now she hardly even seemed to notice mamma’s head propped up across from her at the table. The girl glanced up, still not meeting his eye as he set the tea in front of her before doing the same for his mamma. He sat down in the empty chair and to observe his guest. Her nose was scrunched up and she appeared to be sniffing the steam rising from her drink. He hoped she didn’t think it smelled too bad.

“Oh my god,” she muttered to herself, “is this…?” After taking another deep whiff, she pulled a face that he could not describe. “Holy shit.” She looked straight into his face, or at least she would have if it was not covered. “Are you… is this… fucking serious?”

Jason was puzzled by this. He wasn’t sure what there was to not be serious about, so he responded with a slow nod. His guest twitched a couple times and did that same strange thing with her face before letting out a soft, disbelieving chuckle. He froze. She squeezed her eyes shut and began to shake with mirth. She was laughing, actually laughing! And it wasn’t a mean laugh, like the kids at camp that used to tease him by telling him nasty things, it was a happy laugh, a beautiful sound.

He smiled behind his mask and gingerly lifted the flowery cup by its handle, tilting it against his mamma’s lips, not even minding the way the liquid leaked and dribbled all over the table and floor. She wasn’t all that great at drinking tea anymore, but it was okay because he was pretty sure she was smiling too. 

The girl’s laughter grew into howls as she continued to convulse until tears trickled from the corners of her eyes just like mamma’s dandelion tea. Jason was happy that he knew such useful things.


End file.
